


Singularity

by esteefee



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Episode Related, First Time, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-04-05
Updated: 2009-04-05
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:08:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,415
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3875
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/esteefee/pseuds/esteefee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Team cuts loose in San Francisco (after series finale.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Singularity

When John wakes up he isn't sure where he is for a second, and that's strange enough, because he's been on high alert ever since he can remember; the last time he woke up disoriented from the tail of a dream was back before Basic. And then he feels a shift of movement behind him and thinks, _Oh, right, Rodney—_ and just like that his heart begins to race, as if all the panic he'd been holding back is suddenly swamping him at once.

Because there's no way he should have done this. Because leaving aside the fact Rodney is a _guy_, he's also _Rodney_, and that's just...John can't really find a good comparison beyond _like taking on a hive ship with nothing but a peashooter._

Not that John hasn't done some reckless things, time and again, but this just takes the effing _cake_.

Stupid, shortsighted and reckless though he is, John decides he isn't a coward, and resists his initial urge to sneak out of bed and find his uniform and get the hell out before Rodney wakes up. But John does inch forward a little to create some space between them, because he can feel Rodney's morning hard-on making intimate with the back of his thigh, and that's just weird on so many levels John can't count.

The night before comes back slowly—too much beer and exhaustion, and the way Rodney's weight had crushed him to the mattress and the desperate sounds Rodney made while he rubbed his cock against John's...and the totally embarrassing noise John made when he came. And Rodney's smile—not smug, like John would've expected, but sweet and relieved and almost tender—

_God._ He has to stop thinking about this.

Rodney jerks suddenly, making the bed bounce, and says blearily, "What?"

So, the jig is up. John rubs a hand over his mouth to check for drool and knuckles his eyes before sitting up and turning to look.

"Hey," he says, to Rodney's wide-eyed expression, and Rodney blinks once before closing his mouth and twisting his lips. Not quite a frown, but not a smile, either.

"Oh, God," Rodney says.

"Yeah. Pretty much," John agrees, turning away. He's already thinking _what about Keller?_ And what about the fact they are now on _Earth_, right outside the San Francisco Bay, and could they have picked a worse possible time to have fallen into whatever they fell into last night, under the influence of strong, imported ale and having escaped near-death and the invasion of Earth by Wraith?

Is that all it takes for John to turn over a brand-new leaf and have sex with a guy, rub up against another guy's cock and—_Jesus_, what a fucking mess.

"So, I'll just go," John says when Rodney doesn't speak, a heavy, silent lump behind him. "We'll just call this a fluke."

"A fluke." Rodney's voice is dry.

"An anomaly. A singularity. A really stupid—"

"Yes," Rodney interrupts him. "Quite so. I blame you, of course." There's a bit of humor there, which John clutches onto desperately—maybe they can get out of this alive.

"I'm sorry," he says anyway, feeling like a jerk, because this is Rodney, and John shouldn't have. Even if Rodney was the one who started the whole damned thing; and boy, you'd think that would make John feel better, except John had jumped at the chance like a soldier offered a two-day pass in Bangkok.

"There's no need to apologize," Rodney says stiffly. "If anything, I should be the one—"

"It was us. It was both of us," John says as he leans over to locate his boxers. Rodney is silent behind him as he pulls them up and then wrestles on his shirt. He can feel Rodney's eyes on him, and a shiver travels over the skin of his back. John doesn't know why, but being the focus of Rodney's attention like that—hell, any kind of attention from Rodney—makes him want more of it. It's always been that way, but now it's worse. Now that he's known _this_.

He really, really has to get out of here.

His pants are in the corner where he'd left them after they'd almost tripped him by hanging around his ankles. He gets up and pulls them on, then kicks his boots over to the bed and finally looks at Rodney again.

Rodney has his hands in his lap and is staring down at them. He looks smaller, somehow, and the guilt flares up again, so John says roughly, "What about Keller?"

Rodney flinches. "You don't remember?" he asks bitterly.

"Remember what?" But John has a really bad feeling.

"She broke up with me. Right after we landed, if you can believe it. There I was, happily babbling about what we would do now that we're back on Earth, and she tells me she's not so sure if being 'entirely exclusive' is the right thing for her at this time. That led to...words. And the end result is, we broke up. I _told_ you that last night, and then we—with the beer—and I—"

John chews on that for a moment. "Then this was—" he waves his hand at Rodney on the bed, "a rebound thing?" he finishes, feeling like an asshole and a total idiot.

"I thought you said it was an anomaly?" Rodney says sarcastically.

"Right. Right." A flash of Rodney kissing him flickers through John's mind. He blows out a breath and then sits down to get his boots on. "I'll just get out of your hair."

"You do that."

John is dressed and at the door, poised to open it, when he realizes he's been waiting for Rodney to call him back. Like for some reason the info about Keller meant this was something different, or that he wants a different outcome, which he really doesn't. So he swipes his hand over the crystal and says, "So long."

Rodney doesn't say a thing.

:::

Woolsey disappears into meetings with the IOA and the SGC, leaving John in charge. The first thing John does is schedule shore leave rotations—and how hilarious is it that Atlantis is floating like an oil tanker outside of San Francisco? It puts a whole different slant on the term "Fleet Week."

He sticks himself last on the schedule, but Rodney cracks into his laptop and changes things around so that the whole team is on leave the minute Woolsey gets back. John isn't sure if it was Rodney's idea or Teyla's, but Teyla's mentioned a couple of times she wants to see the city they've been staring at over the balcony.

John doesn't want to leave for some reason; maybe part of it is the squirrely look Woolsey gets whenever John asks him how long before they can go back to Pegasus. But Teyla is determined, and Rodney has cooked the schedule, and Ronon is back on his feet but on the outs again with his part-time girlfriend, the one with the scary kick-boxing skills, and he's looking a little morose. So John says yes, and gets Woolsey to let him fly the team in a cloaked jumper to San Francisco.

He decides to land them in a deserted area of Golden Gate Park, making Rodney roll his eyes. Even Teyla must get the Star Trek reference, because she laughs when John says, "Everybody remember where we parked," as they disembark. John has a pocket full of cash, delivered by Woolsey along with identification for the team, which he hands over before they move out.

"Don't spend it all in one place."

Ronon looks at the money and then shrugs and stuffs it in his pocket. Teyla fingers the I.D. card and says, "It is a rather unflattering photograph."

It's strange to see his team in civvies—in _Earth_ civvies, Teyla in a pair of blue jeans she'd borrowed from one of the female scientists, and a white, button-down shirt John had given her. She's got the tails tied at her waist and the top buttons unbuttoned so she looks not unlike an extra from an 80s video, not that he'd tell her that. Ronon is wearing his usual leather pants but someone convinced him to put on a T-shirt that reads, "It's not my damned planet, monkey-boy." John thinks Lorne is to blame for that one.

John is in a T-shirt, a black jacket, and his oldest pair of jeans, the ones that had been buried at the bottom of his duffle in the closet for years now, so it smells a bit musty, and the creases are permanent. He's lost some weight since he last wore them; they slide down his hips a little, and without his gear belt or his holster, it feels like they're going to fall off. He misses his gun, although he has a small one tucked into an ankle holster and he's pretty sure Ronon and Teyla have at least five knives on them, combined.

Everyone is looking up a little nervously at the undefended sky every so often as they walk through the park. Rodney is being weirdly quiet, and John is worried because Rodney hadn't taken the co-pilot's chair on the way over. That says something, along with the fact Rodney isn't insulting him about his sense of direction or complaining about parking them so far from the objective. John is pretty sure he's screwed everything up, but he's hoping it's not permanent or that serious, even though right about now Rodney should be teasing him about his pants falling down because John keeps having to hike them up (and how did he never get how much Rodney's teasing was almost exactly like flirting?)

Still, it's a beautiful day—perfect, cool and sunny, even though if John remembers right it's now the middle of December. California is freaky that way. John looks over at Teyla, who smiles serenely at him, seemingly unworried about the fact she's in a completely different galaxy than she's used to, or that there's no guarantee at all the IOA will let them all go home.

Gradually, as they're walking down a path through the trees, they start to see groups of people, all heading in the same direction they're going, and John becomes aware of a murmur that's getting louder. Around the time he recognizes the noise he realizes it's something he hasn't heard for years—the sound of a really big crowd. They break through the gap right next a giant bowl of grass, a meadow filled with—_Jesus_—at least thirty thousand people. John stops dead, and feels his team tensing by his side.

They stand there for a moment in stunned silence, and then Rodney waves at a lady pushing a stroller and says, "Excuse me—what's going on over there?"

She turns and smiles. "Free concert. Didn't you know about it?"

John shakes his head numbly, awed by seeing so many humans in one place, and he feels a nervous tingle at the back of his neck. But that's stupid, because this is _Earth_, this is why he flew into that hive ship planning to set off a nuke—hell, he was ready to blow up his whole _team_ to protect this, and he feels his spine shiver with what might have been.

All these people. So _many_ of them, milling and talking and laughing, converging in the bowl of green grass.

He thinks he's doing okay, until he looks over at Teyla's stunned face and sees what he's never thought he'd ever see: Teyla is crying, a wide smile spreading her lips, and Ronon doesn't look like he'll manage to keep it together either.

"Look at them," Rodney says, reading John's mind. "God, they look—"

"Yeah."

"I have never in my life seen so many people in one place," Teyla says in a choked voice. "So many..."

"Should we go over there?" Ronon asks, but he sounds nervous, and John shakes his head.

"Nah, let's stick to the plan." He's not sure he could stand having that many people close by. He's already feeling a little claustrophobic. "We'll stop here afterward and listen to some music."

He gathers their agreement with a look and they all skirt around the stream of traffic to head up out of the park.

:::

Haight Street is as weird as John remembers from a long-ago furlough. Hippie kids in tie-dye, smoking dope on the corner and asking for handouts from passers-by. Although there are more pseudo-punks now, wearing black leather and sporting piercings and tattoos, pink and purple Mohawks. A kid with green-dyed dread locks passes them, and Ronon grins when he sees the hair.

"Not a chance, Chewie," John says.

Almost the first shop they decide to hit is a used music store, the window full of CDs, DVDs and vinyl record albums. John makes a beeline for the country music section, dragging Teyla and Ronon with him. Rodney is already gone, disappearing into the DVD room.

"These are all for sale?" Teyla asks, fingering a rack of CDs.

"Yeah. They're used."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning someone bought them first, listened to them, then sold them to the store."

"Interesting."

"You think they have Pink here?" Ronon asks, and John jerks his head in surprise.

"You like Pink?" John doesn't want to think which of his marines is responsible.

"She's cool. Nice voice."

"I guess she'd be over in Pop," John says, pointing.

John finds some Cash he doesn't own, live performances, and piles them together with some Creedance. He gets bored fast, and Teyla is looking like she is, too, so John tracks down Rodney and they collect Ronon, who's talking to the guy with green dreads.

"Come on," John says, feeling like a soccer mom, because he's suddenly worried about Ronon falling under a bad influence.

John pays for everything and then stuffs the pile into his backpack, which he'd checked at the door. The whole process seems to fascinate Teyla.

"They don't bargain?" she comments as they walk out.

"Nope. Everything has a fixed price."

She pulls out the money John had given her. "And I can use this?"

"It's all yours, and there's more where that came from. As far as the SGC is concerned, you're owed some serious back-pay."

"Good." Teyla nods. "I would then like to buy some shoes."

"Why am I not surprised?" Rodney says, groaning, but Ronon smiles and pushes him onto the sidewalk. They find a shoe store just two buildings down, where Teyla tries on a pair of steel-toed bug stompers that make Ronon envious.

"You could crush a Wraith's skull with those," he says approvingly. John signals him to shut up, flicking his eyes at the store clerk, who fortunately looks as bored as if they were discussing cornbread recipes and not life-sucking vampires from another galaxy. Too bad. She'd probably really be interested if she knew what they were talking about.

"Please tell me we're going to eat soon," Rodney says as soon as Teyla has finished buying her boots.

"Looks like there's a panini place over there—" John points.

"No, look—Mexican. Wait, Indian there's an Indian restaurant," Rodney spins around, "and a McDonalds. And Thai, oh, God, Thai curry, or I...ohhhh, I smell shawarma. Jesus." Rodney looks completely discombobulated.

"Pizza," John says firmly, spotting a pizzeria. "For five years, you kept talking about pizza."

"I did?"

"Yeah. You did," Ronon says, sounding amused. John pushes at Rodney, getting him moving down the street.

"Real pizza," Rodney says, going with it now, taking point, and Teyla and John exchange an amused look. "Sausage, mushrooms and peppers. And bacon, _my_ kind of bacon."

"Canadian bacon, check."

"And a Coke."

"And a Coke, buddy," John agrees, feeling ridiculously pleased when Rodney sees the giant pies in the window and beams a smile at him. John grins back and orders him three slices. And a Coke. He gets beer for himself and Ronon, and Teyla gives them both a look.

The pizza is really good, and gives the team new energy to attack some more shops. Teyla gets lost in a fabric store and Ronon finds a used deerskin coat, all of a piece, his eyes glinting with pleasure as he tries it on. Rodney drags them into a music store and plays with an electric keyboard.

And all around them are people, lots of people, most of them young, all of them oblivious to the two aliens and two intergalactic explorers on home furlough. It's surreal, but in a good way. John finds himself relaxing, laughing, making inside jokes that only four people on the planet would understand. Only his team would get Rodney being frustrated trying to get piano tones instead of tuba out of the synthesizer and having John say, "Just try throwing it in reverse."

"Oh, that's just your solution for everything, isn't it?"

"No. Usually it's 'go faster.' Or 'shoot more,'" Ronon says, and Teyla actually giggles.

It's a good day. It gets even better when they find a revival movie theater showing _Blade Runner_—"The Director's Cut," Rodney says smugly, "with no stupid overdubbing." And there's popcorn in wooden bowls for some reason, instead of paper tubs, and couches instead of theater seating, which makes it feel like movie night back in Atlantis, only with a much, much bigger screen.

Ronon starts whispering along with Roy Batty near the end, _"I've seen things you people wouldn't believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched sea-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time..._" John joins in, _"...like tears...in the rain."_

They all blink their way into daylight as they leave the theater.

"It's weird," John says, "but it feels less like we're _here_."

Rodney shoots him a considering look, and John tries to shake off the feeling.

"Come on," he says, "I see a skateboard shop."

:::

It's late when they finally get in a cab, Rodney claiming he's found "the perfect place," for food, John assumes. John's too tired to ask for details, and his shoulders ache from the straps of his back-pack, since everyone had shoved their stuff in his bag, not wanting to carry it themselves. He isn't sure why he was selected as beast of burden, but he's ready to follow wherever, if it means he can just put his pack down somewhere.

The cab goes over a bunch of steep hills, and Ronon and Teyla both stare out the windows, seemingly fascinated. John feels a little seasick and closes his eyes. He hears their murmurs bleed together in a wash of sound, and is drifting in a good place when Rodney shakes his shoulder.

"We're here."

"Where's here?" John says, his voice rusty.

"Where we're staying tonight," Rodney says.

"Staying? But the...the _jumper_," he whispers to Rodney.

"It'll be fine. Don't be such a worry-wart."

On either side of him, Rodney and Teyla get out of the cab, so the choice is out of John's hands. In the front seat, Ronon shuffles through his wad of cash and throws a confused look over his shoulder at John. John reads the meter and hands the cabbie a twenty.

Outside, the air is much cooler, and John shivers a little in his jacket and starts waking up. People bump by him on the sidewalk as he moves to the trunk to get his backpack and their packages. After jostling him, a man says, "Excuse me," and John looks up and nods. The guy doesn't move for a second, instead giving John the once-over. John stiffens and stares him down, and the guy hurries away.

Shaking his head, John turns toward the B&amp;B. The sign on the door reads, "Inn on Castro."

"Rodney," John hisses, but Rodney is already walking up the stairs to the entrance, Ronon and Teyla flanking him. John takes another look around and starts to see what he hadn't before—a good percentage of the people walking up and down the sidewalk are young, good-looking, and male. Some of them are holding hands.

"Jesus," John mutters, and hurries to catch up with his team.

The inside is warm and a little stuffy. It looks like the place used to be an apartment building before it became a bed and breakfast. Everything looks a little worn and lived-in. There's a fire in the fireplace, and John finds himself drifting into the living room to stand in front of it, letting Rodney take care of getting the rooms.

Now that John's warm, he's getting hungry again. He follows the team up the stairs and is about to mention dinner to Rodney when he gets waved into a room. There's a bed there, and John dumps the packages and his backpack on the floor. He's tempted to just drop onto the bed and take a nap, but he really needs some chow.

It takes him a second to realize Rodney has followed him in, and is putting some stuff down on the bureau by the door.

"Rodney. What the hell?"

"What?"

"Don't you have a room of your own?"

Rodney gives him a narrow look. "No." He crosses his arms. "Is that going to be a problem?"

_But there's only one bed,_ John doesn't say. He's really glad he didn't, a moment later, because Rodney relaxes a little and shakes his head.

"Colonel. We've bunked down in a one-man _tent_ in the middle of a prehistoric forest, for God's sake. You think you can take roughing it for one night in a bed and breakfast?"

"Fine," John says. "But I need to eat. Now."

Rodney blinks. "I think that's the first time I've ever heard you say you're hungry."

"I'm not hungry. I'm dying."

A quick smile flashes across Rodney's face. "And I know exactly where we're going for dinner. So, chop-chop, clean up and let's go."

John shrugs off his jacket and shakes it off, then opens the door to what he thinks is the bathroom, but turns out to be a closet.

"Bathroom is a shared one down the hall," Rodney says. And that's pretty funny—that Rodney, of all people, wouldn't object to sharing a bathroom. Being on Earth seems to have done something to him.

John locates the bathroom and takes a whiz, then washes his hands and face. He's feeling more awake now, and his stomach is really rumbling.

Rodney leads the team downstairs and out onto the sidewalk. Cars are speeding past them up the hill. It's weird how quickly John's gotten used to the smell of exhaust again, and the noise of traffic.

"Sheppard is hungry," Rodney says. "We're gonna go get Indian food."

"Indian?" Teyla asks. "As in cowboys and Indians? I had thought your native population was decimated."

Teyla is definitely proof that a little Earth history is a dangerous thing. She's always curious for more cultural information, but they'd only brought a few anthropologists with them. Rodney said it was because Daniel Jackson was too jealous to let other anthropologists go on the expedition. He'd given John the entire, bitter scoop on Dr. Jackson one night after rogue Asgards had abducted them and made mincemeat of the gate system.

_"The man is utterly insufferable,"_ Rodney said after Jackson left, _"even if he's good in a tight spot."_

"These are different Indians, Teyla," John says, forestalling a lecture by Rodney. "From a large, eastern country."

"And they make great food," Rodney says.

They sure do, John thinks as he munches down on the crispy _samosa_ Rodney ordered for appetizers, then fighting off Ronon for the last of the _palak pakora_. Ronon growls, and John's pretty sure he's close to pulling his knife, but just then the waiter comes over with their entrees, and placates Ronon with a plate full of Chicken Tandoori.

"This is very good," Teyla says brightly. "This has been a wonderful day." She picks up her wine glass and raises it. "I remember this tradition from the memorial for the _Aurora's_ crew. May I make a toast, John?"

"Yeah, Teyla, of course." John holds up his beer, and Ronon and Rodney follow, both looking a little uncomfortable.

"To your world," she says softly, "and to the many people here who have welcomed us, and shared their bounty."

Clumsily, John clinks his glass against Teyla's, and then loses half his beer over his hand when Ronon mimics them a little too enthusiastically.

Ronon clears his throat. "Someday we will be rid of the Wraith," he says, "and maybe you can bring more of your people to Pegasus. Someday."

"Someday, buddy. Hell, yes."

They all look over at Rodney, who sputters, "What, I'm supposed to make one, too? What about Sheppard?"

"You first, Rodney." John can't help smirking a little.

"Fine. Fine." Rodney juts his chin. "Welcome to our planet. We're very sorry about the pollution, which has been making Teyla's eyes water all day, and about all the loud noises, which have Ronon looking like a long-tailed cat in a room full of rocking chairs. Oh, and tomorrow we're getting chocolate-chip pancakes, which I promised to Ronon like three years ago."

There's a moment's pause, as if everyone's waiting to make sure Rodney's really done, and then they all tip their glasses together. They're getting better at it.

Now everyone's eyes are on him, and John feels the age-old stupidity starting to lock down his tongue. "To sticking together," he gets out, avoiding the sympathetic look Teyla is beaming his way. "No matter where we are."

"Not bad, Sheppard," Rodney says. They all clink, and then finally drink.

John clears his throat. "Now that we're done with the schmaltz, I vote we all get seriously drunk."

"I'm with you," Ronon says. Rodney gives John a dirty look, but Teyla just laughs. John throws a wad of cash onto the check, leaving a massive tip but hardly caring.

"All right, McKay. Point us to the nearest bar."

:::

_Well, that was pretty stupid,_ John thinks later. By "nearest," he should have specified "the nearest bar that isn't chock full of incredibly good-looking gay men on the make." Who are all, apparently, after Ronon's ass.

They're in a bar called—no kidding—Moby Dick, and Ronon isn't the only one getting cruised. Teyla has some pretty lesbian admirers as well, and John has been "accidentally" groped so often that he finally wedged himself into a corner between Teyla's bar stool and a giant fern.

Rodney is on Teyla's other side talking to a thin, blond-haired man wearing black-rimmed glasses and a shiny silver shirt. Eyes bright under the influence of one too many cosmopolitans, Rodney is waving his hands in ever bigger gestures, which is kind of unfortunate, because he keeps knocking the large, hairy man next to him with his knuckles. John figures either the guy will eventually flatten Rodney with a meaty fist to the face, or he'll tuck Rodney under his left arm and carry him off to his lair.

Or try to, anyway; no way is John letting that happen on his watch. He stopped drinking after his first beer and has switched to club soda, no lime. He never does citrus anymore. That's all Rodney's fault, of course. Rodney, who is smiling at something blondie is saying.

The evening starts to get really out of hand when Ronon pulls one of his larger knives to show it off to a big guy laced head-to-toe in black leather.

"Okay, kids, time to go," John shouts to them over the music. Teyla looks up—one of her new friends is petting Teyla's hair, for crying out loud—and blinks at him, looking a little toasted.

Jesus. They're all drunk, either on alcohol or hormones or a combo of both, and John is starting to worry this little outing will end as badly as any one of a hundred missions.

And he really, really doesn't like the way blondie is leaning in on Rodney right now.

"Because tomorrow. We have that _thing_," John says to Teyla, and she frowns, but then nods slowly.

"Of course," she says. "That, ah, diplomatic meeting."

"Yeah. Diplomats. They'll be expecting us." John pushes away from the fern, which has been almost as handsy as the red-haired guy winking at him from across the bar. Oh, yeah, John's ass remembers him.

Feeling a little panicky, he taps on Teyla's arm. She slides off the stool and puts her hands on Hair Petter's shoulders and leans forward for the Athosian head-bump, but Petter takes the opportunity to plant a kiss on her. With tongue.

Rodney stops whatever he was doing with blondie to goggle at them. Fortunately, Ronon turns away from Leather Man and immediately does a little looming over Teyla, which breaks up the clinch.

"Gotta go," Ronon says. Rodney nods, a little glazed-eyed, and together the team starts pushing toward the door.

And, damn it, John's Redhead still manages to get in one last ass-grab as John tries to slip past.

:::

"What a fun place," Rodney is saying as he leads the way back toward the B&amp;B. "Klaus was very impressed with my 'theoretical' description of the physics of wormholes. He wasn't entirely stupid for a Berkeley student."

"So, what, he was three-quarters stupid? Eighty percent?" John is feeling grouchy for some reason.

"And Claudia was very sweet," Teyla says. "Actually, I must admit, John, I was pleasantly surprised to discover your culture is not as sexually self-limiting as I had previously thought."

John gapes a little. "What?"

"Oh, I realize the expedition team is very small group upon which to base an opinion—"

"Maybe it's just the way scientists are. And marines," Ronon breaks in.

"Please. You've just been hanging around the wrong people," Rodney says. John doesn't miss the sideways glance Rodney gives him.

"I'm not hearing this," John mutters and picks up the pace. They're almost at the inn.

"So, you are saying not all the expedition members are so strange?"

Whatever response Rodney might have made gets lost under the sound of John's boots stomping up the stairs.

:::

"I am never, ever taking you drinking again," John says as he helps Ronon off with his boots. Teyla is already crashed out on her single bed by the window. Snoring.

"I got it," Ronon says, but he's only barely plucking at the fly of his 501s, and John has to help him get the buttons undone before hauling the jeans off his long, long legs.

"Take these." John hands him a couple of aspirin he'd brought from his kit. "And drink this," he says, giving him a glass of water. "Now go to sleep."

"Ten four, good buddy," Ronon says.

John turns out the light. "And no more showings of _Smokey and the Bandit_, ever."

:::

He expects Rodney to be asleep when he gets back from washing up, but finds him in a T-shirt and boxers standing by the window in their room. John doesn't say a thing, just unstraps his ankle holster and tucks his gun under one of the pillows.

He's tired. He can't remember being this tired after his last mission, and that involved flying a team of F-302s against a Wraith dart attack on Earth. So, he's really not up for it when Rodney turns and puts his hands on his hips, clearly intending to _talk._

Hell, even on a good night's sleep John isn't ready to talk. Which Rodney should know, because the last time Rodney looked at him like this was the morning after..._after_. But maybe Rodney doesn't want to talk, because he stalks in a straight line toward John as if he hadn't been practically stone drunk an hour ago.

"What?" John says, backing away a step and hating himself for doing it.

"All day you've been—" Rodney makes a vague gesture.

"_What_?" John's back is against the wall now.

"You. You, Sheppard, you're—"

"I'm what?" _Repressed? Sexually self-limiting? Totally incapable of kissing someone I really want to kiss? And God, I wanted to wring Klaus' fucking neck for looking at you that way, but I can't, I can't do this. Not this._ "Rodney—"

"You're such a jerk," Rodney says softly, and then kisses him. Rodney's tongue is beer-heavy, and John can't breathe, he can't breathe and he sidles away, pushing Rodney off him.

"Rodney. Stop it."

"Jesus Christ," Rodney says, his face flushed, lips wet. He cocks his head. "Who did this to you? Seriously. I want to know what makes someone—" he waves his hands at John "—so seriously messed up in the head."

"There's nothing wrong with me." John tries to smirk. "Maybe it's you."

"Oh, right. Like you're the poster child of the mentally well-balanced. Seriously, who? What? _Something_ had to make you—"

"Cory Palmer," John finds himself saying. "Seventh grade." His best friend.

Rodney frowns, but looks less like he wants to take a swing at him. "What happened?"

"I jerked him off. Afterward, he punched me so hard I had to get braces until my teeth settled back in." John pushes away from the wall and goes over to the desk, where he'd left the keys to the room. He picks them up and holds them, a reassuring weight that says he can get out, get away. "Look. I'm gonna go for a walk—"

But Rodney's hand is suddenly on his shoulder, and John feels heavier somehow, like he's got lead in his veins. Like he can't move.

He remembers the electric excitement he'd felt touching Cory, holding another boy's dick. And it seemed so simple, as if it explained everything. But then he remembers the look of disgust on Cory's face afterward, the total fury, and how John had simply stood, frozen, watching the fist flying toward his mouth and thinking he deserved it for being different. He'd broken the rules somehow.

But then, John has always broken the rules. He's not sure why this was any different, except it was. He'd never let himself think—

"John."

Isn't that a kick, how this is what it takes for Rodney to call him by his first name? Rodney is tugging at him, and John lets himself be turned, ponderously slow, the lead still weighing him to the ground.

_The heaviest object in the universe is a black hole,_ he thinks suddenly, irrelevantly. "Singularity," he says, but his voice breaks, and Rodney's frown breaks with it, into something gentle, into that tender expression John remembers seeing only once before.

"You thought you were alone, is that it?"

Jesus, Rodney is smart. "It was fucking Pittsville, Maryland, Rodney. Yeah, I was _alone_."

"But not anymore. We're in a city full of anomalies, John. Anomalies that kiss each other goodbye on the sidewalk."

"And feel you up in public," John mutters.

Rodney grins suddenly. "And I have the bruises to prove it."

John makes a face, and Rodney huffs a laugh. "You should have seen your expression when Klaus decided to get chummy. All day long you've been looking at me, watching me." Rodney eases forward a step into John's space and lowers his voice, "Giving me the Sheppard Special, that smile you have." Rodney's hand comes up and he places his thumb at the corner of John's mouth.

"Rodney." John hears the warning in his voice, but apparently Rodney doesn't, because he draws his thumb across John's lower lip, making it tingle.

"You've been laboring under legacy information. You're really not alone anymore. At least, you don't have to be." Rodney's voice is smooth—when did Rodney get so _smooth_? He's never like this with women, usually so awkward and fumbling. Maybe that's the difference. Or maybe that's even _why_—

Rodney leans up and puts his lips on John's, and the question becomes sort of moot, because the tingling is spreading down John's chest and shivering into his stomach, putting heat there, all from the gentle pressure of Rodney's mouth on his.

Something breaks somewhere, a snap like leaving atmosphere, and John starts kissing back, pushing his tongue into Rodney's mouth, bending over him, bending him _back_, and Rodney grabs at John's shoulders to keep himself upright.

John wants more of that—Rodney's hands, Rodney's strong arms and solid body pressing tight and warm against his. John wraps his arms around Rodney and practically lifts him into the kiss, forcing Rodney to take his tongue, and Rodney groans, sounding helpless and amazed. And that's it—that's what John wants, he's making this his, owning Rodney's mouth and the hard-on pressed against his thigh through Rodney's boxers, and the fumbled grasping of Rodney's hands against his back. He swings Rodney over to the big, brass-railed bed so he can lay him down and cover him with his body. It's good. It's so good John can't help thrusting his cock against Rodney's, and through the soft fabric of his jeans he feels Rodney's heat burning into him.

He wants to touch it. He wants to hold Rodney's cock in his hand. John rolls off to the side so he stick his hand inside Rodney's boxers. He's about to reach in when Rodney squirms and lifts his hips, pushing his underwear off. He's all pink cock against pale, smooth skin, and John swallows hard before reaching out and wrapping his fingers around the base of Rodney's cock.

Rodney makes a sound, breathless, begging, when John starts to stroke. He reaches the top and thumbs the soft crumple of foreskin surrounding the crown, then watches the head appear, red and tight, as he pushes the skin down again. Rodney is murmuring something and suddenly his breath is hot in John's ear as he nibbles on it. John pulls away so he can focus on Rodney's cock in his hand, in making it good—better—best at this tempo, fast and twisting, and he loves how Rodney's cock rides loosely under the foreskin. He can imagine how good it feels to Rodney, and John's cock jerks in his jeans. This was something he'd missed, something he hadn't allowed himself to have—knowing how good it felt even as he did it, the certainty of a man's parts and a man's needs.

Rodney says, "God, _John_," and his cock suddenly hardens further in John's hand, turning into steel, and John knows what that means, too, and he pulls back to watch Rodney go over, to see the hard spurts of his jizz arcing into the air. John squeezes as he pulls, and Rodney moans deliciously as John strips his cock of come.

John stops stroking just in time, from Rodney's slight wince, but leaves his hand where it is, holding Rodney's softening cock. He doesn't want to let go. Maybe not ever. But finally he does, and wipes his hand on his jeans.

"I'm sorry," he mumbles. He's not just apologizing to Rodney. Rodney seems to get it, because he runs his fingers up into John's hair in sympathy.

And then suddenly John is flat on his back with Rodney staring down at him, blue eyes glittering with determination.

"These pants. Have been driving...me...crazy." He kisses John roughly before sitting up and yanking off John's jeans. Rodney hadn't unbuttoned them all the way, and they catch on the curve of John's ass, so he wriggles a little to help out. And then Rodney lifts John's boxers over his aching cock and stops, just looking at him.

John feels himself start to flush. His face goes even hotter when Rodney trails one finger down John's erection, and John's dick _jumps_.

"Okay," Rodney says, and before John can ask him what he means, he lifts John's cock and bends to take it into his mouth.

John lets out an explosive breath at the soft, wet heat surrounding him. Rodney's good at this—_Christ_—so good, all suction and moving tongue, no teeth at all except for the occasional nibble at the head. John has to clench his teeth to keep from making noises, to stop himself from saying, _yeah, Rodney, like that, just like that_. He's on the edge so fast he has to dig his fingers into the bed cover, trying to hold back. He wants to come so bad, but he wants to hold on, too, and keep feeling this—Rodney's soft tongue—and listen to the wet sounds of him sucking John's cock.

But John makes the mistake of cracking open his eyes and peering down, and that's it—just seeing Rodney's lips rounded over his cock makes the tension in his gut snap loose, and his balls crawl tight and he starts to come hard, a moan escaping him.

Rodney swallows it all, every bit of his load—which, considering John hasn't jacked off in days, must be plenty. As hot as that is, it makes John's heart twinge a little, seeing the eager way Rodney swallows him down, the blissed-out expression on his face.

It makes John feel so damned sorry all over again.

"Come here," John says when he's sure his voice won't shake apart, and Rodney crawls up to slump next to him on the pillow. "God, you're good at that," John says.

Rodney licks his lips once before giving him a smug smile. "You're so right."

An involuntary laugh bubbles up from John's chest. "Modest, too."

"I've never really seen the point."

"No, I'm guessing you haven't." John stretches a little, raising his arm up, and if it happens to wrap around Rodney and nudge him into resting his head on John's shoulder, well, that could be accidental.

John's hands are sticky, and he's still wearing his T-shirt, naked from the waist down. The air is cool on his damp cock, and he can feel the hair on his legs standing up from the chill. But he doesn't want to move, doesn't want to do a damned thing but lie here with Rodney's body a warm, reassuring weight curled against him.

John falls asleep to the sound of Rodney's soft snores.

:::

When John wakes up he's disoriented again. There's a light on, and he has a little bit of a headache from squinting in his sleep. A moment later he registers the warm body tight against his back, and the strong arm draped over his waist. Rodney's cock is nudged up against the crack of John's ass.

He gives himself a minute to freak out a little; just a minute, because he's done this dance before and he's learned his lesson. It doesn't matter what stray panic is still rebounding against the edges of his mind. He just can't stand to fuck things up again, and see Rodney's quiet disappointment.

John rolls forward long enough to snap off the lamp, and then turns and tucks Rodney back into his arms. He drops a quick kiss on the top of Rodney's forehead, right at the hairline, before settling down to go back to sleep.

The freak-out can wait.

:::

The next morning Rodney insists on dragging the team out to a diner, where they order waffles and stacks of chocolate-chip pancakes. Ronon eats like a man possessed, as if he hadn't drank half the bar the night before.

Teyla, at least, is a little green, and insists on drinking a few cups of coffee instead, something she usually never does.

"I like this city," Ronon says, licking syrup off his lips.

John looks over at the counter, where a skinny, green-eyed guy with a buzz-cut is sitting with his hand tucked in the back pocket of the bearded man next to him.

"Yeah, me, too," John says.

Rodney smiles.

"Hey, there's a place I want to stop by before we head back."

:::

The jumper is where they left it, apparently unnoticed and untouched. The park is almost empty today, the skies threatening gloom, silvery and low. John flies them up into the fog layer, and a few minutes later they break into sudden sunshine, the red towers of the Golden Gate Bridge looming against the blue.

"It's beautiful," Teyla comments. "What a magnificent structure."

"Yeah." Earth is a pretty amazing place, but there's only one place John wants to be, these days. He navigates back to Atlantis using the HUD, because when he looks out the port he can't see anything but ocean.

Back inside Atlantis' walls, the familiar architecture settles John somehow. At the same time, it makes what happened on their furlough seem further away, almost unreal. He has to look over at Rodney and see the rumpled curve of his brow, where John had kissed him this morning before they left their room, to reassure himself. Rodney gives him a lopsided grin and pointedly shakes the bag he's carrying.

John feels his ears burn. Now _that_ had been an interesting shopping experience. He's pretty sure his blush around Rodney is going to be a permanent thing, especially if he lets Rodney use that little purchase on him.

Woolsey welcomes them all back, and then gestures them into the conference room. John clamps down on a sudden surge of anxiety. Jesus, they've only been gone a day; he thought even the IOA couldn't mess things up this fast.

"I have good news," Woolsey says, his hands folded on the table before him.

John will believe it when he hears it.

"First of all, I want you to know I will be moving out of the leadership role and into one of acting as liaison between Atlantis and the IOA."

Rodney flashes John a look, which he returns with a stifling frown.

"It sounds like a good position for you, Mr. Woolsey." Teyla asks quietly. "But what is the reason for this change?"

"Well, as much as I have enjoyed my time in the Pegasus Galaxy, there are matters here on Earth that need my attention. And because I do not wish to leave Earth again—"

"They're letting us go back," Ronon says flatly, almost disbelieving.

"Yes, of course." Woolsey sounds surprised.

"Then who—?"

"Ah. Yes, well, for this next part, I'm afraid I have to defer to Colonel Carter to make the announcement."

John knows what that means, and feels a leaden lump in his throat. Col. Carter will be back in Atlantis, which means his superior officer will be military once again. John very deliberately doesn't look at Rodney as Woolsey dials up the SGC.

Col. Carter appears on the screen, a bright smile on her face. John stands up and gives her a sloppy salute, smiling back. He does like her, and respects her as a commander, even if this is about to go the way he thinks it will.

"Colonel Sheppard," Carter says, nodding and turning, "Mr. Woolsey, Ronon, Teyla, Rodney..."

"Yes, yes. Greetings from Earth," Rodney says impatiently. "We are on the same planet, you realize?"

"Yes, Rodney, I was aware of that." Carter still has that irrepressible smile. "John, I was expecting to do this in private, but I think you won't mind the company?"

"Not at all," John says lazily.

"Then..." Carter straightens suddenly, all Air Force, and John finds himself doing the same, straightening out of his slouch and clasping his wrists behind him just as she goes on, "It gives me great pleasure to notify you of your promotion. Congratulations, John," she suddenly grins, "You are now a full bird Colonel."

"What?" John says weakly, drowned out by Ronon's shout and Teyla's soft congratulations. Woolsey tugs on his arm, turning him and handing him a set of eagle pins.

"She made me carry them back for you," Woolsey explains, but John is hardly taking it in, because the eagles are heavy in his hand, and because just then Rodney says, his voice loud in the sudden quiet, "You're giving him Atlantis."

"Yes," Carter says. Her voice is a mixture of pride and regret. "Atlantis is now your command, John."

"Dear God," John finds himself saying, and everyone starts laughing.

"Is that all you have to say, Colonel?" Carter asks gleefully.

"No, sir. I think you're all crazy, sir," John says. There's more laughter, and then Teyla grabs him to touch foreheads, followed by a bear hug from Ronon that squeezes all the air from John's lungs. Woolsey shakes John's hand.

Finally, John turns to Rodney, who says, "Well, I guess we'll be working together. When you have time, I have some ideas for permanent improvements to the hyperdrive based on Zelenka's recent shenanigans."

"I'll pencil you in," John says dryly. He can hardly take it in. Atlantis is going home. John will _fly_ her home, and she belongs to him now, from gate room to ballast chambers.

And Rodney. She belongs to both of them, and they belong to her, and maybe even to each other. It's a little overwhelming.

"I think I'll start by taking a nap," John says. They're all laughing at him as Carter signs off and the meeting breaks up.

Outside, there's confusion in the gate room, folks caught in the middle of a shift change, and the team weaves their way through and then out into the corridor.

"I'm going to go take a shower," Rodney says airily. He still has the shopping bag in his hand, and he gives John a sideways look before saying, "See you people at lunch?"

It's a sure thing John has been completely corrupted, because as soon as Ronon and Teyla peel off, John turns back and follows Rodney to his quarters, a strange sense of freedom making his feet light.

After all, he really can't let Rodney waste his investment.  
   
 

_End._

A/N: Places and pictures:  


* [Golden Gate Park](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Golden_Gate_Park)

* * * \- [street view of Haight where it meets the park](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=kennedy+blvd,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=40.324283,71.191406&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.770986,-122.456982&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.004427,0.017381&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.76917,-122.45354&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=EE3_5fI_XbA0kRP5-9IN1w&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=11,260.7600758549986,,0,3.5333333333333377)  


* * *   


* * *   
[A shot of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival in GGPark](http://www.strictlybluegrass.com/2008/gallery/photoshow.cgi?show=quick&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;num=47)   

  

*   
[Amoeba Music](http://www.amoeba.com/store-locations/index.html#san-francisco) on Haight  

  

*   
[Red Vic Moviehouse](http://www.redvicmoviehouse.com/about.php) on Haight - [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=1727+Haight+Street+San+Francisco,+CA+94117&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.770579,-122.451274&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008684,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.769466,-122.451231&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=Rtkq4Cd_xiTIDRDiKhWoNg&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,174.47878507435144,,0,5.497237569060771)  

  

*   
[Dal Jeets](http://www.daljeets.com/info.html) on Haight (excellent boots) - [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=1773+Haight+Street,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.770342,-122.45136&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008684,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.76945,-122.451362&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=pA-6_sgB4X2y9Cw5FkWXeQ&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,181.49073888214176,,0,5)  

  

*   
[Escape From NY Pizza](http://www.yelp.com/biz/escape-from-new-york-pizza-san-francisco-3) on Haight  

  

*   
[Mendel's Fabrics](http://www.yelp.com/biz/mendels-san-francisco) on Haight  

  

*   
[Buffalo Exchange](http://www.yelp.com/biz/buffalo-exchange-san-francisco-2) on Haight - [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=1555+Haight+Street,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=40.324283,71.191406&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.769918,-122.447863&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.009855,0.017381&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.769903,-122.447974&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=_4QAku1_UiegzWQCRHchaw&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,158.90386663665467,,0,0.44444444444444475)  

  

*   
[Skates on Haight](http://www.skatesonhaight.com/Default.asp?Redirected=Y) \- [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=1818+haight+street,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.769324,-122.452369&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008685,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.769307,-122.452483&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=rxNCGBwmkZxrTqZaTnTPCg&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,22.303472996646175,,0,1.8176795580110505)  

  

*   
[Haight Ashbury Music Center](http://www.haight-ashbury-music.com/) \- [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=1540+Haight+St,+San+Francisco,+San+Francisco,+California+94117&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cd=1&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=FeFSQAIdyJiz-A&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;split=0&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.769935,-122.447648&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008684,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.769928,-122.447746&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=l0A8g8Wx3uK-MJn8Y-sLzw&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,352.92189648542063,,0,6.988950276243095)  

  

*   
[The Castro](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=Castro+and+Market+Street,+San+Francisco,+San+Francisco,+California+94117&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.769935,-122.447648&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=0.008684,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;g=1540+Haight+St,+San+Francisco,+San+Francisco,+California+94117&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.763133,-122.434194&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008685,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=cent&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.7627,-122.435191&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=EhTo1lNZBnoxot5-iCjMMg&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,164.05499173138855,,1,1.751324663141519)   

  

*   
[Inn on Castro](http://web.archive.org/web/20060827113351/www.innoncastro.com/AboutTheInn.htm) \- [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=321+castro+street,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.763472,-122.435267&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008685,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.763329,-122.435245&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=o797iy2c0VT5EgGOTISX2A&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,68.9405606509705,,0,-4.845303867403316)  

  

*   
[Bombay Indian Restaurant](http://bombayindian.com/map.htm) in the Castro on Market  

  

*   
[Moby Dick](http://www.mobydicksf.com/photos/photos.htm) bar in the Castro - [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?f=q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;source=s_q&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;q=4049+18th+street,+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.0625,-95.677068&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=35.631106,79.541016&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.761725,-122.433915&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.008685,0.019419&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;iwloc=addr&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.76099,-122.433929&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=eOrb_1Eujhy3iHlZ3NcqaQ&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=12,121.9355913232939,,1,5.311516201349106)  

  

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[Orphan Andy's](http://base.googlehosted.com/base_media?q=wf-6346949078241216719&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;size=1&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;hl=en) diner in the Castro - [street view](http://maps.google.com/maps?daddr=3991+17th+St,+San+Francisco,+CA+94114+\(Orphan+Andy%27s\)&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;geocode=CZWev5_0CjFxFeY0QAIdzsqz-CFLbvdJi5JZiw&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;dirflg=&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;saddr=san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;f=d&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;dq=little+orphan+andy%27s,+loc:+san+francisco,+ca&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sll=37.775108,-122.421906&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;sspn=0.034112,0.032422&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cid=10041217971138293323&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ie=UTF8&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;ll=37.762478,-122.434971&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;spn=0.004427,0.017381&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;z=16&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;layer=c&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbll=37.762478,-122.434971&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;panoid=zGqMTSrp3_0jkZFVxhe9hA&;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;amp;cbp=11,149.79550283593133,,0,-0.6666666666666677)  

  

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[Erotica shops in the Castro](http://www.castrosf.org/needs.erotica_shops.html)   

  

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[The Golden Gate Bridge](http://www.sfphotorama.com/uploaded_images/GoldenGateBridge_CityOfSanFrancisco-724096.jpg)   


"It's not my damned planet, monkey-boy," is a reference to [_The Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension_](http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0086856/).

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End file.
